Better Than Dying
by StrangerEmotion
Summary: Hermione becomes a slayer a few years after the fall of Voldemort. In her curiosity she stumbles upon a plan by the Malfoy's and Snape that has far reaching consequences. Not least of which is a dark man made darker.  Post Chosen, pre NFA. HGxSS.


Chapter One: The Fallen

June 14th 2003

Hermione jerked up in bed, the dream had felt so real. Ron blearily looked up at her from his side of the bed. "'Mione, what's wrong?"

She bolted for the bathroom and between vomiting up dinner and coughing with the vile taste in her mouth she told him, "Everything, it was so vivid." She turned into his embrace, he felt like comfort and home. She stopped reeling and sunk into his arms. "Ron... He... Snape-"

He backed away from her with a clouded expression on his face, "Not him again, Hermione. You need to stop beating yourself up about that. It wasn't your fault. Besides, it's been five years!" He looked conflicted for a moment and pulled a bit on her arm and pleaded, "Come back to bed. It won't be so bad in the light of day, you'll see."

She nodded but didn't believe him. He didn't feel it like she did, the overwhelming guilt nagged at her day in and out. Her dreams were plagued with his blank eyes and blood covered fingers. And the day wasn't much better. With everyone who had made it the absences still reminded her of him and her greatest personal failure. "Let me just... I need a minute."

He nodded; his eyes sad and a bit distrustful. Maybe she was just imagining it. "Sure, whatever, take all the time you need." He closed the bathroom door and she heard him flop back into bed. She sighed with relief, these days she felt saner when alone. They couldn't say she was imagining him turning into alleys and disappearing before she could catch up. Or think she was overreacting about the dreams she had every single night since he had died. Nightmares really. If he was alive, he most certainly wouldn't want to see her. Or let her apologize.

She brushed a little too vigorously and blood dripped from her gums. She stared grimly into her own reflection and hated it. "You killed him, you stupid bint!" She smashed the mirror and broke her skin with the glass. "Ow!" She said, belatedly realizing the door wasn't locked. Ron came bursting in.

"Merlin's Beard 'Mione! I just replaced the last one." He was red in the face. She hated seeing him like this.

"I- I gotta take a walk." She rushed past him, knocking him into the wall in the process. She didn't care much that instant though; he had finally stopped caring that she'd hurt herself. He hadn't even looked at her hand. Just bellowed at her and looked at the mess she'd made of the bathroom they shared in their apartment.

She made it to the Park a few blocks from Ron's flat. She'd move out later today. She couldn't take these people any longer. She grimaced while pulling out a sliver of glass. A man sat next to her and she almost freaked. "Hello, Miss Hermione Granger." She darted up from the bench and checked for her wand, it was absent of course.

She narrowed her eyes at the man. He was about middle aged, maybe a bit older, and was dressed entirely in tweed. That was usually not a good sign. "Do I know you?" She asked with a bit of unusual venom to her voice.

He smiled, it should have put her at ease but didn't. "No, we've just met. However I must inform you of something."

She smirked, "And what's that? I've won the publisher's clearinghouse?" He looked a bit put off by her hostility but what should he expect, the time of night not withstanding it was awfully peculiar to be talking to strange women in the park.

"No, no, not that. You have been given an extraordinary gift however. Not only are you a witch, of which you already know that, but you are a slayer. You have been since May of this year." He looked quietly pleased with himself and she had absolutely no clue as to why.

She looked shocked and said, "A what?" Her bleeding hand was forgotten, for the moment.

He looked at her with a bit of a piercing gaze, as dorky as that may sound and said, "You have been having some particularly disturbing dreams... have you not? They have gotten worse just recently I imagine."

She got angry and yelled, "What have you done to me? Did you poison me to dream about- None of your damn business that's what."

He simply shook his head no and handed her a book. "It's safe, it chronicles some of the more... recent events that led up to the formation of the new council of watchers; more specifically the reason why you are now a slayer as well. You should be able to find some information about slayers yourself or you can come see me at," he fumbled in his coat pocket and pulled out a card that he handed to her, "This address. I'm almost always there and can assist you with... figuring out how to put those dreams behind you."

He left rather quickly after that. And she slumped back into the hard wood bench. "Wonder what he was on," She said and placed the card in her jacket pocket. To her mortification she realized it was the only other thing on besides her pajamas and bunny slippers. "Now I look like the aimless tramp. Just what my reputation needs."

"I'd say talking to yourself is the truly damning evidence." She heard him say in nothing more than a whisper, but he was gone, just gone when she turned to his voice. She was absolutely certain Severus Snape's ghost must be haunting her somehow.

June 23rd 2003

"Hermione!" Minerva McGonagall exclaimed and wrapped her into a motherly hug and then sat back down behind her desk. She hadn't moved offices but was still acting Headmaster. "I assume you are here to ask me about something. I can't guarantee that I can help you but I will try."

Hermione nodded and sat the book the man had given her only just a week ago down on the mahogany desk and conjured her own seat, a nice chintz chair. "I have spoken to no one else but I thought... You might know more about these Slayers. I'm apparently one of them."

Minerva barely glanced at it as she had a copy of her own. "Did you know I was a close personal friend of Quinton Travers? No need to answer that. Yes, slayers... He informed me you were a potential slayer. He thought it was rather remarkable to be gifted with both witchcraft and slayer potential. We never actually believed you would be called, though... I had a rather aggressive argument with Albus and Severus about the potential of using you should you become a slayer to fight Voldemort. I was against it, of course, but they... Well they both always put strategy above human interests. In short, it is true. Now, my turn, who contacted you?"

"A Mr. Giles, he's gone away at present to inform more slayers of their calling. He did suggest keeping my identity a secret, even in this world. However, I do think you are trustworthy enough and since I'm not interested in becoming a full time member of their organization I don't see the harm in it." Hermione yawned rather embarrassingly and Minerva looked at her with compassion.

"The dreams?"

"Yes, they are getting... Well, more persistent. I really do think he is alive, somewhere out there." Hermione looked unsure about whether or not that was a good thing.

"It might just be the stress and the guilt. You aren't dealing with it well. I- I haven't been dealing very well either. I was so quick to distrust him. I should have known that was exactly the kind of plan Albus would make to ensure Severus' success." Minerva looked every bit her age then.

"Maybe you are right. But on the off chance you are not. Be careful. He... He isn't exactly himself in my dreams either. Well, not on the good/non homicidal days."

"Very well, I will keep myself alert. By the by, have you contacted you're parents yet?" Minerva asked.

"No, they will be safe though. They have settled in and don't want to come back to Britain." Hermione was still a bit put out with them. Things were still rough between them; they hadn't forgiven her for erasing their memory. They just couldn't understand why it was so important. And so in retaliation they now act like they don't even know her. Smart plan, huh? She gathered her things and rose, Minerva remained seated. "Do contact me though. If you see or hear anything suspicious."

"Of course, safe travels Hermione." Minerva said and sighed when the girl finally left the office. 'Rupert was back in England and he didn't even contact me himself. Infuriating sod.' She poured herself a scotch; it was well past lunch and past caring at this point. She drank the entire glass with a tight lipped expression on her face. But inside she felt like she was that bonnie lass he'd seduced, in other words, a remarkable idiot.

The business with Severus was a more pressing matter however, so she began formulating a plan. It was a good plan too; she wouldn't fail the girl or him.

July 28th 2003

Hermione entered the training room and smiled at her fellow British slayers. She'd really come to appreciate the feeling of family she got from these girls. "Hey, Hermione. We're actually going on a vamp hunt tonight. Wanna come with?" The youngest of them said perkily. She smiled, the girl reminded her of Ginny. Who, let the record be known, wasn't speaking with her since she'd broken up with Ron.

"Sure," She said, "Always up for some slay time with my favourite gals." She'd embraced slaying to deal with the resentment she was feeling over Ron and Ginny and that whole mess. Ron was embracing other women, for his part. And yet he wasn't the one getting the cold shoulder. None of them knew that she was now a deadly weapon against the forces of evil.

Xander, her watcher, threw a punch at her when he noticed her gathering wool. She caught his hand easily and twisted it around his back. "Still favoring your left, Xander."

"You got me. I'm man enough to admit that." He said with a wince. She let him go. "I see you've been doing some fieldwork alone. I thought we talked about this." He said, glancing at the scratches and bruises on her arms.

She braced herself for hearing him reprimand her thoroughly. He pulled out a bottle of disinfectant. "Here, at least take better care of yourself."

"I doubt very much I'll die from a little scratch. Don't worry, I only take on as many as I can handle." She tried to reassure him. "If I need healing I can just spell myself right again."

He frowned at her blithe remark. 'She won't understand it unless she experiences it.' He thought while helping her put disinfectant on the various cuts on her arms. "Is this about Ron? I don't want you risking your life because of that guy."

She looked a bit mad that he would bring up Ron, but she knew he was right to some extent. "It takes two to tango Xander. I know I messed up with him and didn't show much interest in making things right. If only I wasn't the one left out in the cold over it. But it's not about Ron. I just have to do it or I don't feel right. Do you have any idea what I mean?"

"Slayers need to slay, I get that. But why not with backup? Why do you keep risking getting hurt or worse... That's all I'm saying." He looked really worried about her so she gave him a small smile to show she understood that she shouldn't do it anymore.

Xander briefly squeezed her shoulder and turned to face the other slayers. "Look lively, Slayers. Our mission begins in an hour and I want you all warmed up by then. Also, let's try not to get spotted by someone this time. People don't understand your sacred duty unless they benefit from it themselves. Well? Get to it!" He shouted and turned back to her and said, "You too."

July 31st 2003

Several days later she went out again by herself. The place she was staying currently had felt confining. Even her skin had started to heat with unused energy. Her magic had started to become as wild and frazzled as her mane of hair. So she had finally had it and after lacing up her boots tightly she had stepped confidently out of the door and onto the quiet city street. Far from aimless, though it would seem that way to any watching eye, she set a course for the nearest cemetery. She knew some rather melodramatic vampires liked to sleep in the catacombs and she just might catch them coming back before daybreak.

"Here we are." She whispered, not yet grasping the need to not speak aloud around vampires. As one the group of three's heads turned and grinned at her. Their fangs protruding from their mouths and yellow eyes sharp with interest. "Ah, so you have spotted me. Is there any chance you want to do this sportingly and come at me one at a time?"

She heard a chill laughter behind her before she was out cold.

He looked over his captive of the hour. He had had no choice but to take her with him to his hideout. He had almost been done with her but had noticed something different about her. She wasn't a muggle girl for one. Then there was the problem of her being one of his former students, in his other life. Lastly, she was a slayer. He knew of course that there were more now. By a large margin if stories were to be believed. But, back to the girl, she was regaining consciousness slowly. "Yes, just what should I do with you, Miss Granger?"

She tugged on the restraints sharply; they did not budge and answered, "Let me go sounds like a good plan. I just knew you were still alive, and now that you are before me I can kill you properly for putting me through that madness."

"Hold your tongue, girl. Clearly rhetorical questions are still lost on you." He took a moment to cross his arms and look at her menacingly. "Whatever madness you experienced was your own, Miss Granger."

She huffed and pulled so hard the pipe he had her strapped to shook violently. He only smirked at her struggling. "You are not him, stop affecting his pose and cadence." She said briefly, not even sparing him a glance as she continued to wriggle.

"I'm not a vampire, Miss Granger," He said, "More importantly, vampires aren't just demons. They also have the human inside. It's just a little known fact and most humans are too weak of will to overcome the demons will. A soul is really just an excuse."

She scoffed, to which he only raised a singular eyebrow. "Tell me, Miss Granger, how you feel when that stake dusts the vampire?"

She only averted her gaze. He grew tired of the chit's petulance. "Answer me this then, what makes you desire to kill the vampire?"

"Because it's right! They kill innocent people night after night and I'm just supposed to sit back and let them?" Her eyes were filled with a righteous fury and he could tell it was only a half truth. "It's the right thing to do. Now untie me at once!"

He smiled toothily. "Yes, you need to kill them. Just as they need to eat to survive. And I am but another night walker you would have no compunction in killing."

"That's not exactly true. That is, you haven't killed me yet. I would like to know why, please?" She said, attempting sweetness where pure anger had failed.

He put on a sour face at her effort. "Spare me your hypocrisy, Miss Granger. I just haven't decided what I wish to do about you. I lack a wand now, you see. Otherwise I would have Obliviated you and sent you on your way."

He could see the cogs churning in her eyes, processing the facts of the matter. "You can't be- There hasn't been a single reported case of a successful use of that for centuries."

He smiled and showed her his true face. The demonic visage was not unlike a vampire. "Now you see? What difference does it make to you, Slayer, whether I'm a vampire or anything else demon? Which is ironic as you aren't fully human yourself, are you?"

She squinted at him with a strangle look on her face and finally said, "I'm as human as any other witch cum slayer if that's what you mean. I realize I'm not normal."

He leveled a vicious glare at her. "That was not at all what I meant. Use your intelligence, provided you haven't wasted it these last few years." He sighed and affected his Professor voice, "The part of you that gives you unholy strength is demonic essence. Only a very small percentage of girls can handle the essence in their system which forever changes them. Biologically you are still mostly human; however the essence sends everything working overtime. It desires the kill, the rush you feel when staking a vampire. The burning need to do it again and again. It never goes away."

"How do you know all this?" She asked curtly. She was suspicious of his motives; no matter now that she knew he wasn't a vampire. What he was could easily kill her, tied up as she was.

He leaned towards her conspiratorially and whispered, "I've been watching you, Miss Granger. And I've been scouring the underground for more information about your kind. I now have all the pieces of the puzzle. The most important piece being you, key piece one might say."

She tried a head butt but he leaned out of her way with a sly grin on his face. "Settle down, girl, or I won't answer your questions."

She huffed and shouted, "I just want you to know I will kill you regardless of what you say. You've really gone too far. Stalking me, driving me half mad with guilt. It will feel so good to take you out."

"Promise? I can't wait." He said sarcastically. He pulled out a red scarf and tied it in her mouth before she knew what was going on. "It's time for me to sleep, Granger. You might consider it yourself."

She tried very hard to stay awake after he left but the energy she'd had when confronting him was simply gone. She slipped in unconsciousness and woke up without having dreamt a thing back in her own flat with no evidence that the last night had occurred.

'Was he really there?' He wasn't a vampire; no it wasn't demonic essence in him but something older. Something beyond the concept of evil and good. He had somehow acquired the vessel of Erebus and in filling it with his dying blood he had been chosen to remain in between life and death. She somehow doubted he would go to such lengths to return. Nor did she think he'd had the resources to find and buy such an ancient relic. "Malfoy," She whispered into the morning stillness, "Narcissa."


End file.
